


Ticket To Ride

by spacemonkey



Category: U2 (Band)
Genre: Bono is a Little Shit, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26698687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: Edge had never been good at doing nothing, but after a never-ending tour, he figured he'd earned the right. Bono, however, had other ideas. Set not long after the end of ZooTV.
Relationships: Bono/The Edge (U2)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	Ticket To Ride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likeamadonna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeamadonna/gifts).



> Okay, I am well aware that I have a couple of fics requesting completion but I don't have the current mindset to finish them, so instead I decided to take this already-written-but-never-published fic that I wrote a couple of years ago but figured it was not for public consumption, and give it a nice edit/rewrite today, because that's where I am currently in life. I should mention I think I've stolen a couple of sentences from this fic and put them in other fics, although I cannot remember which ones, but if something seems familiar, sorry. Just view this as an organ donor of a fic that suddenly was brought to life, okay? Title comes from The Beatles song of the same name, for a silly reason that is the result of one discussion within fic. Certain inspiration came from one of likeamadonna's fics . . . you'll figure it out when you get to it, I'm sure, and there is absolutely no plot because apparently I've forgotten how to write a plot. What can I say? Sex sells. Love to all xxx

Edge had never been good at doing nothing. How did people just sit around doing nothing all day? Days off meant tinkering around outside or inside, or expanding his knowledge of the universe and the world around them. Learning more about the people that inhabited God’s green earth. Humanity. What made them tick. What had made them tick in the past. And why? What was it all for? A day of doing just nothing? People didn’t tick away whilst lazing about on the couch all day. People didn’t conquer the world or change it by sitting in front of the television and watching _Beavis and Butthead_.

Yet after conquering the world on their never-ending tour and spending so many days off doing everything and anything to keep his mind and body and soul tick-ticking away, Edge was pretty sure he’d warranted at least twenty-four hours of grace and peace and quiet.

He’d earned the right to slum about in front of the television, although _Beavis and Butthead_ had only taken up a very small fraction of his time. Thirty minutes or so, and then it had been straight on to something a little more substantial and stimulating. Stimulating for his mind, of course, although it was always hard to focus on a nature documentary when the person at his side seemed determined to stimulate him in other, more interesting ways.

A kiss against his neck, a nip of his earlobe, one hand trailing down his chest, his stomach, his thigh, back and forth, inching closer and closer to his crotch before sliding away. And then all that remained was warm laughter in his ear, hot breath and a low voice that was tinged with indignity. “I _am_ concentrating, I swear. It’s all very interesting. The world is an amazing place, isn’t it? Animals, insects, people, they’re all so different in so many ways, yet they are all still searching for a little intimacy to get them through the day. Would you like another drink? Or perhaps something else? I’m sure there’s plenty I can find to offer you today, Edge. You name it, and it’s yours.”

It had barely been an hour since Bono had come knocking on the front door, and yet, somehow in that time, Edge had managed to forget what sanity felt like. Not that he was complaining. Honestly, when faced with a choice between enjoying the man at his side or learning more about insects that resided in South America . . . quite frankly, Mother Nature could get fucked, each and every time. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun with it. Not when teasing Bono in his quest toward getting laid always proved to be incredibly rewarding.

“I’d love to be offered a little peace and quiet, actually.”

“I’m not sure I’ve got that in my current supply,” Bono replied with a leer. “What about something else?”

“Do you have something in mind, B?” There were ants on the television, a stunning shot that Edge just couldn’t find it in himself to care about, not when there was a palm sliding up his throat, fingers curling, fingernails scraping, his head being turned. Bono’s tongue was what dreams were made of.

“What about me?”

“What _about_ you?”

Bono huffed out a sigh, glancing briefly heavenward as if to say _why me, Lord?_ “Why don’t you name _me_ , The Edge?”

“Why would I do that? You’ve already got a name.”

“You should consider sleeping with one eye open from now on,” Bono said flatly after a judgemental pause.

“Are you actually thinking of committing a crime, baby?”

“How could I not, after the constant torture you subject me to?” He shook his head, struggling to hold back the smile. “You wouldn’t even see me coming, you know.”

“I don’t have to, B,” Edge shot back, leaning in before pulling away at the perfect moment. “I’ve seen you come so much that the image is seared into my brain. All I have to do is close my eyes and shuffle through the memories.”

“You dirty dog,” Bono mused. “Here I am trying to have a civil conversation about me murdering you, and all you want to do is discuss sex. I think we’re done here.”

“See, I disagree completely. Mostly because I’m suddenly feeling very passionate about slipping my hand down your pants, something I think we might both enjoy.”

“No, we’re done,” Bono insisted, completely drawing away from Edge. “But it’s for the best. You’d miss your nature documentary if we did continue here. And what a shame that would be. I mean, look at the ants, that’s quality and unmissable content right there, wouldn't you agree?”

Edge heaved out his most dramatic sigh, one that made Bono smirk. “You’re right.”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t miss a single second.”

“No.”

“I guess I can hold out for a while longer. Until this is finished.”

“How much longer does it go for?”

Edge shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, really.” He did know. He’d scoured the TV guide early in the week, underlining in red every program that was of interest and noting all the starting and finishing times. If he was going to laze about doing nothing, then he was at least going to do it by a strict time schedule. “Another hour or so, I would imagine.”

“That’s a good time frame,” Bono said, a complete lie. “I can work with that. Drink?”

“Nah.”

“Too bad.”

Edge watched him until he disappeared through the door, footsteps thumping down the hallway. He didn’t bother fighting back the smile that tugged at his cheeks. Who was there to see it? Who was there to spring him and accuse him of not being indifferent to the whole situation? Not Bono. There were only the ants on the screen, and they had far better things to do with their time than wonder what was going on in Edge’s mind. _So many things_ would be the answer if anyone ever asked, and when they pushed and pushed until it all spilled out, Edge would happily say to their shocked faces _, well, you asked for it._

He palmed himself through his pants as he directed the least amount of interest possible to what was happening on the television, drawing his hand away only when he heard the footsteps sounding back down the hallway. He didn’t know why he bothered hiding what he’d been doing—it was pretty evident if Bono knew where to look. And he would look. He always looked. He didn’t know how _not_ to undress Edge with his eyes. He was such a fucking tart.

He did look. It was the second place his gaze turned to, a slow smile appearing on his face as he handed Edge the glass of wine. His other hand remained empty. “Oh, you’re not having a drink?” Edge asked before taking a generous gulp from the glass, an action that made Bono’s smile turn a touch lewd.

“I wanted to share.”

“You know I don’t share well with others.”

“Well, that is disappointing, but I’m sure I’ll live.”

“I don’t know about that. You’ve barely drunk anything today. I mean, B, you’re always so worried that I’m going to become dehydrated, yet you don’t think about yourself.”

Bono just shrugged before sitting back down, turning his body until they were pressed tightly together, his hand settling against Edge’s thigh, his chin digging into Edge’s clavicle. “I feel fine though. I’m not displaying any symptoms of being dehydrated, am I?”

“Do you even know the symptoms?”

“I know a few. I know what it’s like to feel dizzy.”

“Are you dizzy now?” Edge asked, setting down the glass.

“I’m always a little dizzy when I’m around you.”

“Is your mouth dry?”

“You tell me.”

It wasn’t. His mouth was warm and slick, his tongue searching for an excuse to stay. “No,” Edge murmured when they finally parted. “It seems fine to me.”

Bono shrugged again. “I might be fine then.” It was his turn to palm Edge through his pants, that lewd smile becoming lewder with each second that passed. “Don’t you think I’m fine?”

“Perhaps. I’m not your doctor.”

“I wish you were; it would make all those physicals far more bearable.”

“I don’t want to hear about your physicals.”

“Why? Are you jealous?”

“Definitely not. I just don’t like the thought of another man touching you, is all.”

“Sounds like jealousy to me. But I wouldn’t worry too much about him,” Bono whispered in his ear. “Unlike you, love, he’s always gentle.”

Edge had him pushed back against the couch in a flash, that maddening hand staying between his legs even as he pinned Bono’s other hand down, holding him there as their hips rolled, the droning narration on the television quickly drowned out by the melody they were creating together.

“Is this what you want?” Edge asked, then ran his tongue along the line of Bono’s jaw to his ear, briefly tugging at the golden hoop with his teeth before drawing back and finding Bono’s mouth. “You want it right here on the couch?”

“You know I never know what I want.”

“Yes, you do. Tell me,” Edge breathed against his lips. “Tell me what you want.”

There was an expectation in his mind of how Bono was going to answer, an expectation that could be fractured in a few different ways, but at the base of it all was the truth. _Yes_ , he could hear Bono gasping. _Right here on this six-thousand-dollar couch, fuck me right here. I’ll buy you a new couch if we stain it or break it, I promise. I’ll do anything you want, as long as you fuck me hard, Edge._ He could hear it all so vividly, a memory and a fantasy that had played in his mind countless times. And maybe that was why he was so surprised when Bono didn’t react exactly how he’d expected—after so many nights imagining a scenario playing out the same way, it was hard to look past it all and come up with something new.

It was still a gasp that sounded through the room, that sent a quiet thrill through Edge’s body like it always did, but the smile that appeared on Bono’s face was completely unexpected. “You really want to know what I want?”

“I know what you want,” Edge insisted, though uncertainty had started to creep in fast. Bono’s smile wasn’t screaming _right here, right now_ , no, it was suggesting they come up with a solution together.

“Do you?”

It wasn’t how it was supposed to play out. Edge could see the control starting to seep through his fingers, and it just wasn’t right. “Tell me before I go back to my ants.”

It worked like a treat. Bono’s hand slipped out from between them to rub at Edge’s cheek instead, that smile turning into something far more placating. “I’ve just been thinking,” Bono said quietly. “Fantasizing, I suppose, about all the ways in which I could take care of you.”

Edge shook his head. “You don’t have to take care of me.” He turned to kiss Bono’s palm. “ _You_ need taking care of, B, not me.” It was a half-truth and they both knew it, but it didn’t matter. Somewhere along the way, they’d become pretty good at playing the game. “Don’t you like when I take care of you?”

“Edge . . .” Bono trailed off, his fingers dancing at the base of Edge’s skull. “I do. I do like it. And I don’t want to lose that. This isn’t about me taking that away from you, from us. It’s just . . . you know how I like to think sometimes.”

“I do.”

“You know I have thoughts about you that keep me up at night.”

“I know you like to think until you just can’t stand it anymore. You know, some nights I stay up waiting for that phone to ring.”

“I don’t always call when I’m thinking about you.”

“I know. And I admire your restraint,” Edge said before leaning in to capture Bono’s lips in a way that was meant to remain gentle, yet failed on so many levels. “Do you still hide away in the bathroom on those nights when you’re thinking about me and don’t call?” Bono nodded, a dreamy smile faintly appearing. “Do you think about all the things we’ve done together?” Another nod, followed by a shaky breath, as his lips parted and eyes slid shut. “You make yourself come, baby?”

“Edge—”

“I wouldn’t be mad if you called me every time.”

“I know,” Bono said, and although there was determination pulsing through Edge, telling him to press forward and get it done, the tone in Bono’s voice made him hesitate. There was something more there, a want that needed to be put forth. They had been there before. It was how this had all started. Them, together. Them, discovering all the ways that they _could_ be together.

“What have you been thinking about?”

For a moment, Bono seemed to turn bashful, as though he were ashamed of what he was about to suggest. Edge didn’t believe it for a second. “Grooming you.”

“Grooming?” It was an idea that had some merit, that might even have excited Edge more than he’d expected, even if he wasn’t entirely sure if he could trust Bono with a razor at his jugular. Mostly, Bono had a steady hand, but anything could happen when he was worked up. Not to mention his tendency to be somewhat clumsy. Edge would let him though. What choice did he have? It was an idea that had more than some merit; it could actually be incredibly erotic, if they let it. And they would. “I would be into that.”

“Yeah?”

Edge could see it now, an image imprinted in the forefront of his mind. “You want to sit in my lap while you do it?”

It wasn’t really a question, more of an absolute. The image in his mind had Bono situated firmly in Edge’s lap, straddling him, gently rocking against him as he dragged that razor over coarse hair, his hot breath ghosting against newly exposed skin. It was a pretty picture that wasn’t to be toyed with, no matter how hard Bono frowned. He was frowning. Why was he frowning?

“I . . . Edge, that won’t work.”

“Why not? It’s the best position I can think of to do it. Easy access.”

“To what?”

“My face?”

“Your— _oooh_ ,” Bono let out before shaking his head, the laughter gently rolling through him. He was biting his lip when he glanced back at Edge, his eyes dancing. “Edge, it’s not your face I want to shave.”

It took Edge a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“Seriously? Why not?”

There were a few reasons, Edge was sure, but as he looked at Bono they just weren’t coming to mind. His mouth had worked far quicker than his brain could, which was surprising. Where had that refusal come from? And why? Surely he had a reason. “It’ll look odd.” That was a reason.

“I think it’ll look incredible,” Bono insisted as his fingers trailed along Edge’s jaw, his lips following the path a half a beat later. “And it’ll feel even better.”

“For you, maybe.”

“For both of us.”

Edge shook his head. “It’ll look odd,” he said again. “I’m hairy, B.”

“I know. We both are, and that’s okay. We are men, you know. Macho men, if you will.”

“No, I mean . . . don’t you think it’ll look weird, going from all that hair to one hairless section below my belly?”

“Who is going to see it but us?” Bono’s lip quirked. “And who is going to feel it but us? It won’t look weird, okay? You’ll look bigger, trust me.”

“You don’t think I’m big enough?”

“I didn’t say that!”

“You might as well have.”

“Edge. Love.” Bono offered him a placating smile before dragging his hand back between them. It was a tight fit, but he managed. He always did. And when those fingers found the bulge of Edge’s crotch, it was hard to think of anything but that touch. It was hard to think of reason, any reason at all. “I’ll make it good for you. I’ll make it so good. Just imagine what it will feel like. I’ll be careful, I promise. Imagine it. Are you imagining it?”

Edge was. But he wasn’t going to reveal his hand so easily. “I don’t know . . . I think I’d rather just fuck you. Can you imagine _that_?”

“I don’t have to imagine it.”

“No, you definitely don’t. You know how good it feels, how could you want anything else?” That tongue of Bono’s, that maddening tongue against his. “And we both know you love it. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

Bono shook his head, yet still let out a breathy, “Yeah.” A walking contradiction, through and through. “We can still do that after.”

“After we finish debating the issue at hand?”

“No, after I shave you.”

Edge pulled back far enough to better regard him, shifting his gaze from eyes to mouth to eyes again, searching for that true want Bono liked to pretend he could keep hidden at such a time. He found it almost immediately. “You really want to do this, don’t you?”

“I do,” Bono said, before adding a quiet, “So say yes already, would you?”

What choice did Edge have? He sighed. “Fine. But we better hurry up, before I start getting desperate.”

Bono’s smile turned lewd again. “Imagine that. Me, situated between your legs, making you picture something else entirely. No, I don’t think we should hurry up at all. I think I’ll take my time.”

“Of course,” Edge said. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you, you tease.”

“I am a tease, aren’t I?”

“A tart, more like it.”

“That too.” Bono leaned in like he intended to kiss Edge thoroughly, yet stopped at the last second, his breath harshing out against Edge’s lips. “And you fucking love it.”

Off came the clothes, and onto the bathroom they headed, stopping in the hallway and then in the hallway again, further down, hands roaming, mouths roaming, Bono turning pushy only when Edge held him against the wall for a minute too long. “The bathroom, Edge, come on.”

“Would it really be terrible if we did what _I_ wanted before doing your thing?”

“Yes, it would,” Bono insisted. “Life doesn’t revolve around your needs and whims, you know.”

“No, it’s always about you, isn’t it?”

“Not always,” he said with a wink. “Though it’s incredibly fun for me when it is.”

Somehow, they managed to make it out of the hallway and into the bathroom, Bono immediately coming up behind Edge to hold him close, the flat of his palm pressing and slowly sliding down, right on down until it was in the prime position to tease. “I don’t think that’s part of your plan, B.”

“I can’t help it,” Bono mumbled into his shoulder blade. “I don’t know how to keep my distance with you.” His teeth slicked against Edge’s skin as he smiled. “But surely you’re not mad about this?” Edge had no response. Instead, he rocked back, relishing the slide of Bono’s erection against his ass. “Might I ask what it is _you_ think you’re doing, Edge?”

“Nothing,” Edge insisted as he continued to move.

A part of him wanted to stay like that for a while longer. A part of him wanted to draw Bono’s hand back to where it was, then shift it lower until he could grasp and make quick work of it. And then there was the invasive idea of dragging Bono to the floor and fucking him right then and there in the middle of the bathroom.

It seemed, as was often the case, there were a lot of little parts in Edge’s mind clamouring for a chance to shine, but no matter how hard they fought against one another, they still wanted the same thing in the long run: to come and to make Bono come, in the most explosive way.

“Oh, love.” Bono pressed his mouth against Edge’s skin before letting out a shaky laugh, and then the heat of his body was gone. As always, it was missed right away. When Edge turned he was immediately hit with a sight that he knew all too well. Electric eyes and a hard cock that was begging for a hand to sort it out, Edge’s or Bono’s, whichever got there first. It was thrumming beneath the surface, all that arousal, a slight tremor rushing through him just from being admired. “You’re going to get us in trouble if you keep looking at me like that.”

“Maybe I want to.”

“Maybe you do,” Bono mused. “But for now I want you on the toilet.” A beat. “Please.”

“I appreciate the manners, B.”

“I can be a good boy when I want to be.”

There were a number of ways Edge could think to reply, some that might even cause a second tremor to shudder through Bono, others that would probably result in him becoming playfully defensive. But Edge was pretty eager to get this show on the road, so he bit his tongue and sat down on the lid of the toilet, shrugging when Bono grinned. “See? I do listen to you sometimes.”

“Very good, The Edge,” he said before turning to the sink and fumbling through the cabinet. They were silent until after he’d found what he was after to set his plan into motion. “Perhaps one day you might apply that kind of compliance in the studio?”

“Right, because I’m constantly ignoring you—”

“We both know that there’s a big difference between compliance and ignoring a person,” Bono cut in, deftly turning off the faucet and placing the full cup on the sink.

“It’s practically impossible to ignore someone who makes as much noise as you do.”

“And you do hear me. The problem is, however, that half the time you don’t fucking listen to the inspired point I’m trying to make.”

“I only argue with you when it truly matters,” Edge insisted. It was a half-truth, and they both knew it. But Bono didn’t comment, instead smiling to himself as he again went through Edge’s things. “And you’ll notice I only ever argue with you when we’re in the studio.”

“Is that so?”

“That is so, Bono.”

“And what, if I may ask, would you call all those times where you’ve raised your voice at me in private, or helped me to create an explosive scene in front of too many poor souls?” Bono asked, turning to face Edge with his eyebrow raised, his hands full.

“Foreplay?”

“That’s an incredibly unique way to put it.”

“Don’t tell me it doesn’t turn you on sometimes.”

“Well, I don’t know.” The cup was set down onto the tiles by Edge’s foot, the razor and shaving cream following, but Bono chose to situate himself on Edge’s lap instead of the floor where he was meant to be. His body was too warm, his weight more than okay. “Call me a fucking wanker. And say it like you mean it.”

“You fucking _wanker_.”

“Mmm,” Bono let out, the look in his eye telling an oh-so-familiar story. “As usual, Edge, you’re right. Definitely foreplay.”

That’s all it took for them to get going once more. His hands seemed to be on a mission, clutching at Edge’s neck at first, and then their cocks as they moved together, Bono kissing him deeply all the while. And maybe it wasn’t just his hands that were on a mission, but all of him, his tongue being the worst offender, although his hips also had a lot to answer for.

He pulled back with a moan, a strangled chuckle tearing itself from his lips as his eyes darted back and forth in that indecent way. “Oh, that was a mistake.” His throat bobbed, his hands stilling between them. “I think I’m in trouble, Edge.”

“We don’t have to do this today.” Edge shrugged. “We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us, if you’re too worked up—”

“No.” Bono shook his head. “No, I want to do this today. I do. I just . . .” he trailed off with another quiet laugh, this one just as strangled, before lifting himself up off from Edge’s lap. It was only when he was kneeling on the cool tiles that he allowed their gazes to meet. “I want to take care of you.”

“Fair enough. But I’m not sure if I trust you with a sharp razor down there, not when you’re so . . .” Edge drifted his hand through the air as he searched for the right word. “Horny.” It was all that had come to mind, as basic as it was. It still held enough truth to make Bono smile.

“Me? I’m fine. Steady as a rock. I can do this.”

“Can you?”

“I’m not going to cut you, I swear. I’d sooner cut myself before hurting you, even unintentionally.”

It was something that they both knew, without a doubt, to be true, and while it pained Edge to imagine such a thing, it also flooded him with pure warmth. “Okay.”

“I’ll make it good for you.”

“I know you will.”

“Is this killing you?”

“Absolutely.”

“Can you . . .” Bono licked his lips as he looked up at Edge, his mind working overtime, working away on that one single thought. It was only after he had picked up the razor and shaving cream that he expanded further. “Can you tell me about it? While I work?”

“You want to hear about why it’s killing me?”

“What you’re thinking. Imagining. All those thoughts that are rushing through that big brain of yours.”

“You just want to hear me talk about you.”

“I want to hear you tell me what you want to _do_ to me, Edge.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, no matter how steady you think your hand is,” Edge replied. He expected a debate but instead received a small smile, silence and a steady touch.

The shaving cream was far too cold against his skin, although it quickly warmed as Bono ran his hand alongside it, spreading it here and there. Above Edge’s cock, alongside it, and below it, the touch featherlight against his balls. His actual cock, though, stayed uncovered. For good reason, Edge knew, and it wasn’t just because there was no actual hair there. No, he had a theory of what was going on in Bono’s mind, a theory that was proven correct far quicker than he’d imagined it would, when Bono leaned in and sucked for a heartbeat against the head of Edge’s cock. “You better not do that too much,” he warned.

“Do you honestly expect me to listen to you right now?”

“Hey, I’m not going to stop you from doing what you think is right. I’m just saying, be sporadic, unless you want me to come in your mouth before we’re done.”

“I always want you to come in my mouth.”

“I know, you’re forever telling me that.”

The first scrape of the razor felt both alien and familiar, a sensation that he had become intimate partners with when he was only a teenager, that he experienced most mornings, but never against his balls. A warning alarm sounded in his mind, even as his arousal flashed red alongside it. He wanted to pull away. He wanted it to never end. He knew he couldn’t move an inch, without causing a few issues. He’d not expected Bono to start there, but now that it had happened it seemed like the perfect idea. Shockingly, Bono’s hand was still steady enough. It was likely, however, that it wouldn’t remain that way. Not if Edge opened his mouth to give the details a certain someone had been craving.

“You don’t want to come in my mouth?” Bono asked right when enough time had passed that the conversation thread looked to have been completely lost.

“I always do.”

“I know, you’re forever telling me that.”

“Don’t be a smartarse.”

Bono just smiled, his gaze thankfully remaining fixed on what he was doing, his right hand controlling the razor, his left cupping Edge and gently directing him, a sight and feeling that was far more erotic than anticipated. After pausing to rinse to razor in the cup of water, Bono glanced up briefly before leaning back in to tease the head of Edge’s cock with his tongue. 

“What did I just say?”

“That is me being sporadic, Edge, we both know what it’s like when I _don’t_ hold back.”

He had Edge there. “I just think we’d both prefer it if I didn’t shoot my gun off prematurely, so to speak.”

“Why?” Bono frowned at his cock, as the razor glided through a mess of shaving cream. “I’m not going to complain if you did.”

“Because there’s something I want from you after we finish here.”

Bono paused briefly in his efforts, and the smile that appeared on his face was definitely not alien to Edge. “Let’s hear it. Full details, don’t be shy.”

“I’m waiting until you finish shaving my balls.”

“Don’t trust me fully with a razor?”

“Not on your life.”

“I’m almost done. Just . . . just, right there, love.” Back into the water the razor went, tapping at the sides of the cup as Bono cleaned it off properly. “Tell me now.”

“You’re being awfully pushy today.”

“Am I? More so than usual?”

“Yes.”

Bono raised an eyebrow before leaning back in with the razor, this time going for the mess of hair at the base of Edge’s cock. “Maybe I am.”

“Maybe I won’t tell you.”

“Maybe I’ll stop talking.”

“I don’t think you know how to stop talking, B,” Edge said, and he was determined to hold out, he really was, but it only took a grin from Bono to make him break. Still, he managed to hold back for a few more seconds, watching Bono work until he couldn’t wait a moment longer. “I’m of two minds, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“At least. There is that side of me that wants to rush right into it, so quickly that it’ll be over before we know it. And I admit, it’s pretty fun to think about. Me, forcing you down onto the ground, fucking you right there on the tiles. And I wouldn’t be gentle, not today, B.” Edge ran a hand through soft hair, tenderly at first before turning his touch, gripping until Bono had no choice but to glance up. He had that look in his eye, the one that would eventually be the death of Edge. It came as no surprise when the hand doing the shaving came to an abrupt stop. “But you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

A beat. “Yeah.”

“It is probably better, though, that we take our time. After all, anticipation is the key, like you always say. So what I was also thinking about, baby, was you putting on a show for me. You know, I figured you’ve been missing performing for an audience.”

“You know me too well, Edge.”

“Yes, I do. You live to entertain, don’t you? You get off on it. Being watched, I mean.”

“You want to watch me touch myself?” Bono asked in a low voice, though he looked faintly confused. “I would think you’d seen that enough that it might have lost some of its allure.”

It never could, although Edge didn’t say that. “Do you remember that dildo Adam got me as a joke a couple of years back?”

The confusion fled, Bono’s eyes lighting up in understanding, even as he said, “I don’t think that was a joke. I imagine Adam thought you were both curious and needed the company.”

“I wasn’t lonely. I had you.”

“He was genuinely clueless about that at the time, though. They all were. I don’t know why. I always felt as though we were pretty fucking obvious.”

They had been, although Edge didn’t say that either. “Point is, I still have it. And I’d love to see you ride it.”

“I bet you would.”

“But slowly, Bono. You’d have to take it slow for me. Really savour the experience. Make it worth the admission fee.”

“There’s a fee?”

Smartly, Edge chose to steamroll right on past that last comment. “And if you didn’t do it right, if you made me get up out of my chair, then you definitely would not get to come before I did. And maybe not at all. It really depends on how I’m feeling at the time. And your behaviour, whether I have to take complete control of the situation, or if you’ll do your part without any complaints.”

“I’d never complain at such a time, Edge,” Bono murmured, lying with complete conviction. “But you know how to shut me up, if I tried it.”

“I can think of a couple of ways.”

“I’m sure you can, but this is my favourite.” It took one quick slide for Bono to draw Edge deep into his mouth, the sudden wet heat almost pushing him over the edge far too soon, but it was like Bono knew his plight because he didn’t move, not until Edge had steadied himself just enough for that tongue and mouth to gently start their journey together.

“That’s good, baby, yeah, just like that.” The razor clattered to the ground, Bono’s fingers free to dig into Edge’s thighs. His balls had been finished, and the base of his cock fifty-five percent done, but the rest of him was still covered in shaving cream and hair. Edge didn’t care. It would have to wait. They would finish after, they had to, and Edge wanted to, because looking down at himself, he found he liked what he saw. And it wasn’t just the sight of Bono’s mouth around him that swayed his opinion on the matter. “Yeah, I would make you suck me until I came in your mouth, and I bet you would want to come too, but I would make you wait. Wait until I said.”

Bono pulled back with an obscene pop, his breath rushing as he struggled to even it out, as his right hand came to work where his mouth had just been. “We could—” he cut himself off with a laugh that was almost a gasp, before glancing up at Edge through his eyelashes. “What if I complained too much?”

“Then you wouldn’t get to come.”

It was the perfect thing to say. There was little else that Edge could think that would work like that during such a time. He felt the shudder almost as much as he saw it, hot breath and a trembling hand against his cock, and it made him want in so many different ways. To fuck Bono, to make him wait, to let the scenario that he’d just painted play out exactly like he’d said it might, pushing that false threat like it was the truth until Edge had to give in. He wanted to change it up completely, take them both by surprise. He wanted it all, yet he couldn’t decide which idea appealed to him the most.

Unexpectedly, it was decided for him, when Bono drew himself further up on his knees before making his move, left hand reaching out to grip Edge’s cock, right hand disappearing behind his balls. The pressure of one hard finger against his perineum was almost enough to shove Edge right past the stage of becoming desperate, to make him lose control. Almost. Somehow, he managed to hold back, although it was damn near impossible.

It was a burning need that took over his entire being, as Bono pushed back in with an eager mouth, his tongue working away at the head of Edge’s cock, at the slit, before taking him completely, moaning like it was his arse that was being fucked, not his mouth.

He wasn’t touching himself. He could have been, he should have been, but he wasn’t. And that restraint made Edge want to give him exactly what he wanted all the more. Bono deserved it. He deserved it all.

It was an unsteady hand that Edge used to push him back, to _hold_ him back, because God knows it was needed when it came to Bono. His expression was that of a man who had been told _no_ too many times, who had suffered such an unjust hurt by being held from the one thing he wanted most, though it quickly faded away into understanding, and then heat as Edge shoved him backwards before quickly following onto the tiles.

When they pressed together it was pure electricity as their cocks brushed, shaving cream marring Bono’s parted thighs in a way that went completely unnoticed. By Bono, anyway. He was giggling, his lasergaze fixed to Edge’s face, fingers digging in to arms that felt like jelly as Edge attempted to hold still a body that was forever fucking moving. “Look at the mess you’ve made, B,” he admonished, again glancing down between them. “Shaving cream everywhere, it’s completely unsanitary.”

“You don’t have a leg to stand on, love,” Bono shot back before rolling his hips, his mouth falling open to let out a sound that wasn’t quite a moan, nor a sigh, just a noise that Edge wanted to hear again. “You—you’re the one who wants to fuck me on the bathroom floor.”

“That was one suggestion of at least two,” Edge said, knowing full well they weren’t going to make it out of the room to entertain his second fantasy. “But I suppose we do have the entire day to try out both.”

“Dirty boy,” Bono mused with a crooked smile that always made Edge go a little haywire. “Do your worst, you fucking wanker.”


End file.
